Circle of Error
by autarkeia
Summary: KB: Moments of reflection upon hindsight color actions done in darkness. Ignorant of truths not spoken, the immortal deity and the ageless demon struggle to escape the neverending cycle of life and death.
1. Circle of Error

A/N: After reading all of the really fantastic KB stories this website has to offer, I felt motivated to write and contribute something of my own. I lack the creativity of Yoshihiro Togashi, to whom these characters and timeline belong, but I hope you enjoy my first attempt at a YYH story regardless.

**one: circle of error**

_Three…_

The sound of feet padding softly through the thickly carpeted floor of the hallway rang in his ears and he shuddered slightly…

_Two…_

He glanced down at his hands, their paleness a stark contrast against the black silkiness of his bed sheets.

_One._

The door opened seconds after he dropped beneath the sheets, pretending sleep so as to not worry the woman standing in the doorway.

"Oh…you're asleep."

He could sense the smile in her words, just as he could imagine the love shining in her eyes. His fingers fisted together tightly and he realized with shame just how unworthy he was.

The door closed again with a soft click and the lights in the hallway faded to darkness. Moving quietly and swiftly, he locked the door to prevent any future intrusions, and nearly tripped as his foot caught on the edge of something…

His first instinct was to attack. But from beneath the cover of black silk sheets, pale hair tumbled out, the disheveled mess picking up and refracting the soft white light of the moon that trickled in through the slats of his window blinds. Crouching down, he prodded the figure gently, and listened as the person lying at his feet moaned softly, obviously caught between the twin realms of dream and nightmare.

His second instinct was to wonder. And with shaking hands, he picked up the edge of the bed sheet gingerly, so as to not disturb the figure lying beneath. The creature shifted slightly, still moaning, and his sensitive nose was assaulted by the faintly metallic scent of blood. What could have possibly entered his domain without his sensing it?

Finally managing to extricate the bed sheets from the mysterious creature, he stared down at it, his breath catching as the overwhelming need to protect and possess rushed through him in fierce waves.

His last instinct, followed by memories that flooded his mind, left him senseless and surprised that he should feel such a thing, especially now.

_"Kurama! Please…we need to talk!"_

_"Not now, Botan. There's something I need to do."_

_"Wait! Please…just wait!"_

He had been too busy that time to listen. Too caught up with the emotions churning within him. His mother was remarrying. After so many years of living with just him…was she tired of him? Did she regret the years spent with **just** him? Wasn't he good enough to fill the loneliness in her heart?

Apparently not.

That day, five months ago, Botan had asked—no, she had begged—for a few seconds of his time. Just to talk. But he had been busy, far too busy, to be concerned with another assignment from the toddler Koenma. So he had brushed off her words, never thinking they would be the last words he ever heard from her.

Until tonight.

After all this time, what was she doing here? And why was she on his floor, huddled and bleeding beneath his sheets?

"Botan!" He shook her gently, afraid of causing her further injury, but her only response was a muffled moan. Standing up, Kurama turned on one of the lamps in his room, half-afraid of attracting his mother's attention, half-afraid of what he would find once the lights were turned on.

There was **no** blood.

How could this be? The air was now so heavily saturated with the scent of blood, Kurama feared he would faint from it. Shaking his head in confusion, he bent down only to be overwhelmed by the scent of a freshly made wound. He shook Botan again, more roughly this time, but could garner no response from her. Realizing that any attempt of waking her was futile, Kurama picked her up as gently as he could and placed her on his bed.

What he saw next was something he would never forget, and he knew instinctually it would be a memory that he could play over and over again in the future, when wishing and reaching for something that would never be. It was the sight of Botan laying on his bed, her deathly pale beauty illuminated by the black silk sheets, and it was almost enough to make his resolve crumble.

And it might have, had Kurama not remembered the wound he suspected her of having.

Kurama inspected the bleeding deity as closely as courtesy would allow but could find no wound whatsoever. Yet, he knew this to be impossible for with his heightened demi-apparition senses he could **smell** the blood, could almost taste it. And although he was sorely tempted to strip Botan down in order to prove his senses correct, Kurama could not bring himself to violate her in such a way.

Which left only one other option, one he'd rather not exercise, but…

"Koenma." The name was but a whisper but the toddler quickly heard and responded. Kurama smiled thinly. Must be nice, being the Prince of the Dead.

"Yes, Kurama? What can I—Botan?!"

Though the faintly accusatory look in the prince's eyes made Kurama ashamed of himself and of his callous treatment of Botan five months ago, now was not the time to dissect the reasons for his past behavior.

"I'm uncertain as to why Botan is here, bleeding from a wound that I haven't been able to locate, but I thought it best if you knew about her condition."

Kurama's words were left to hang amidst the tension that filled the air. Both Koenma and he were aware of each other's feelings for the bed-ridden maiden and for each other, but as he had reflected earlier, now was not the time.

Koenma sighed. "I'm surprised you haven't yet figured out, Kurama. That's not like you."

Ever since Kurama had first agreed to work for Koenma and his Spirit Detectives, there had never been anything but respect shared between the young prince and he, and yet Kurama couldn't help sensing the resentment that was now emanating forth in waves from the toddler prince.

But why now?

It was a puzzle, to be sure, but one Kurama didn't have the time or desire to solve. He just wanted an answer, **now**. Yet Koenma's words indicated that he should already know the origins behind Botan's condition and quite possibly, the solution.

"How is it that I can smell her blood but not see it?"

Koenma sighed, pity now replacing the accusation that had once clouded his amber-brown eyes. "We-ell…"

His voice trailed off and with it, Kurama's patience. "Koenma, I would suggest that if you know the answers to my questions, you begin talking. **Now**."

The little prince refused to look at Kurama, instead staring a hole into the carpet at his feet and twiddling his fingers the way he always did when he was nervous. Finally, after what seemed a human eternity, he looked up at Kurama, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

"Well, you see, Kurama," Koenma paused, taking a moment to lick his lips and clear his throat, "Botan…well, she's…

"Spit it out, Koenma."

"She's dying."


	2. The Meaning of Life

Standard disclaimers apply.

**two: the meaning of life**

Whatever Kurama had been expecting, news of Botan's imminent death had not been it and so he did what any reasonable person would do in the face of something entirely unbelievable.

He laughed.

Botan was a deity, how could she be dying?

"It's her soul."

Kurama looked at him, puzzled. From what he could remember, the deceased were usually ferried over to Reikai to await King Enma's judgment. If their souls were pure, they stayed in Reikai, King Enma's realm. If their souls were impure, they were either sent to Maikai, to be reborn as a demon apparition, or back to Ningenkai, for another chance at human life.

Those who worked for King Enma, known as _deities,_ usually had the purest of souls and were thus given the honor of acting as "guardian angels" to those destined for greatness. The purer a deity's soul, the greater power and responsibility he or she had, which would explain why Botan had been assigned to one Yusuke Urameshi, prospective heir to Raizen, one of the three demon lords.

But this still did not explain why the blue-haired guardian deity was laying on his bed and supposedly dying.

"Though deity-quality souls are given the ultimate honor and all the powers that come with it, they are perhaps the souls that should be pitied the most, for they are the most lonely of all the apparitions."

Kurama knew then what Botan was suffering from and fear gnawed at his insides, causing the demon inside him to growl agitatedly. It was not her life's blood Kurama had smelled, but the blood essence of her soul.

Deity souls were only good for as long as they remained pure and untainted by things such as love and hate. By keeping things on a strictly professional level, deities were able to abstain from the trivial desires that caused suffering and created chaos through rash, impulsive behavior often indulged in by those inhabitants of the three realms. It was only by remaining detached that deities were able to fulfill their duties and continue making the decisions that were unbiased and necessary for a soul to reach Tantei, the ultimate "paradise" for humans and apparitions alike.

"It's not entirely unheard of for a deity to lose her heart to **someone**," Koenma said, his eyes shadowed with what looked to be feelings of sadness or guilt. "In fact, it's happened quite a few times over the last few centuries."

"Then Botan…?"

"Botan is…" Koenma cleared his throat again, and Kurama found himself wanting nothing more than to rip the young prince's throat out so that the brat might not worry anymore of the lumps that seemed to prevent him from giving Kurama the answers he sought.

"Uhh…"

Though the sound was softly made, it rang in Kurama's ears and both he and Koenma were immediately drawn to Botan's side.

Staring down at the deity's fair visage, Kurama held his breath, praying silently for her revival. And as though sensing his presence, Botan moaned again, louder this time, and without really knowing why, Kurama knelt down beside her and gently picked up her hand, afraid of causing more damage to the already suffering deity.

In the deeper recesses of his mind, detached from daily consciousness and used to store all things deemed significant and helpful for future reference, Kurama discovered to his delight that Botan's hand, while callused from her ferrying work, was still as smooth as rose petals. He stroked it gently and became lost in the sensation of her soft skin beneath his, and the feelings that arose from his simple contact with her, while foreign in scope and nature, both calmed and excited the dual personalities that resided within the red-haired boy.

"Botan is _different_ from the other deities."

Upon hearing Koenma's words, Kurama did not pause in his ministrations to Botan as he **knew** this already, had known it from the start of their introduction, so why was the prince saying this now? Realization struck him suddenly, and overrode the pleasant sensations he had felt after taking hold of Botan's hand.

Two months ago, Botan had wanted to talk. Kurama had brushed her aside, telling himself at the time that it was because he was confused…confused about his mother's marriage and his own emerging demon powers. But truthfully, he had ignored her because he had been afraid of something else, something with a higher potential for psychological damage not unlike what Karasu had almost accomplished at the Dark Tournament. And like a fool, he had continued to ignore her until now, when it appeared that he might too late.

"_Kurama! Please…we need to talk!"_

"_Not now, Botan. There's something I need to do."_

"_Wait! Please…just wait!"_

Koenma watched as understanding dawned on the red-haired youth and nodded in agreement to the silent question reflected in his eyes. "Kurama, Botan is different for many reasons."

…_And it's all because of you._


	3. Catatonic State of Mind

Standard disclaimers apply.

**three: catatonic state of mind**

Koenma watched as the usually stoic redhead stared at him in blank shock over his carefully chosen, albeit harsh, words. Closing his eyes, he silently counted to ten, while mentally searching for the information that would best help Kurama understand. When he saw that Kurama's expression had not changed, Koenma sighed helplessly, knowing that the redheaded youth was probably blaming himself for Botan's current condition.

"You should visit the palace library one of these days," Koenma said quietly, uncertain whether Kurama was really listening, but hoping that he was. "There are scriptures there you may find interesting since they provide a history of the different realms. In fact," Koenma added with a beaming smile, "there's even a section on Youko Kurama and his successful career!"

Seeing that he was failing to arouse his audience, Koenma's smile faltered. "The scriptures also describe our current caste system and explain why, during the infancy of the Enma lineage, the first King Enma chose to implement such a system.

"Think of your life in terms of poker. That's the name of the game you humans are so fond of playing, am I correct?" At Kurama's slow nod, Koenma smiled. "Very good, then. You're dealt a certain hand at the beginning of the game. Should you disagree with this hand, you may choose to discard it. Correct?" Again, the slow nod. "Well, Kismet," Koenma paused and cast furtive glances around the room, "Kismet, being the **selective** deity that she is, deals everyone their hand in life."

Kurama nodded his understanding. "Which would mean that the life an individual leads depends entirely on his acceptance or refusal of the hand he's dealt by Kismet."

Koenma beamed and nodded emphatically. "Exactly!" Shaking his head in mock tiredness, Koenma muttered, "And why Yusuke was not able to grasp the same concept, I'll never know."

"But how does this affect Botan?"

"Er, well…as I mentioned earlier, Botan is different from other deities. What I mean to say is, a deity is assigned a position that best correlates with what he or she was in a past life. In Kismet's case, she used to be a gambler."

Kurama nearly face-faulted. "A gambler?"

Koenma grimaced in understanding. "Who was quite proficient with dice, from what I understand. Apparently, one of my ancestors was quite a fan of hers and endorsed her appointment as deity when she died. And seeing as how the old bat refuses to retire, there's really no need to appoint another Deity of Fate as of this moment."

"I see. Who, or shall I say, **what** was Botan before she died?"

Koenma smiled tightly. "That's actually a good question, but one I'm not quite capable of answering." Upon seeing the swiftly growing ire in Kurama's emerald-colored eyes, Koenma held up his hands in defense. "Don't take it out on me, Kurama! It's just that…well, what I mean to say is…"

Kurama briefly closed his eyes in a desperate attempt for focus, but his once-renowned patience was steadily deteriorating and his eyes rapidly flickered between green and gold, hinting at the redhead's inner turmoil. After only a split-second's time, Kurama exhaled softly before staring at the brown-haired prince, a feral glint in his now gold-colored eyes.

"Koenma, I would suggest you quit stalling and tell me what I'd like to know. **Now**."

Kurama's tone was harsh, overly so, but if Koenma didn't stop beating around the proverbial bush, he just might relish killing the little brat. After having lived as the infamous Youko Kurama, after having survived the obstacles of being Shuichi Minamino, one would think the prince would know better than to try the patience of an obviously cunning and highly intelligent individual such as himself.

But knowing he couldn't do anything to help Botan without Koenma's help, Kurama sighed. "Koenma, please. Just tell me what I need to know to help Botan, that's all that matters right now."

"It isn't as easy as that, Kurama. You see, the circumstances of Botan's life, death, and subsequent appointment are quite, how shall I put this, **delicate**, and to release such classified information requires clearance from my father."

Kurama growled in anger, frustrated with the pity he could see in Koenma's eyes. But he couldn't very well just let Botan die, could he? If her essence, or soul, or whatever stupid term the toddler prince had for it, was leaving her, he needed to know. However, his pride wouldn't allow him to beg, and his heart wouldn't allow Botan to continue in her current state, so he resorted to the only means he knew of.

Violence.


End file.
